


Nineteen Stars

by achillese



Series: Be Healed [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baking, Birthday, Cake, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:31:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achillese/pseuds/achillese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Adam bakes a birthday cake for himself and Michael while the angel ponders just how old his human boyfriend is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nineteen Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Charlie](http://luciferising.tumblr.com) for the prompt: "Adam is baking a cake and cutting it for Michael and Michael thinks he's being attacked."

“Is it done yet?”

“For the hundredth time, this shit isn’t instantaneous.”

“It could be if you’d just let me—”

“No, no. I told you, I wanted to make this the human way, angel juice be damned.”

“The irony in that sentiment alone—”

“Mike, just...just sit down before you hurt yourself.”

Michael knew Adam wasn’t really mad at him, knew that the command was more of a suggestion, and so he slowly lowered himself into a kitchen chair, smirking a little. Seeing Adam running around the kitchen, slightly annoyed, with a little bit of flour on his cheek and on his shirt...it was entertaining. And cute. Mostly cute.

The celebration at Bobby’s house the other night had gone fairly smoothly despite all of Adam’s worrying. He’d gotten a pretty good gift haul: _Let the Right One In_ from Sam, a couple of CDs from Dean (mostly Led Zeppelin, of course), a rock salt gun from Bobby (“just in case” were the words he’d used upon giving Adam the horribly wrapped package), and from Castiel, a St. Michael cross on a thin silver chain that he was currently wearing around his neck, tucked into his shirt. Again, the irony was rampant.

After a full night of drinking beer and loosening up around each other (the beer probably helped), they all got into what turned out to be the big question of the night: just how old was Adam now? Nineteen when first killed. A year passed before he was resurrected. Did that make him twenty when he was topside? Or frozen at nineteen? Killed again, unwittingly, before tossed into the Cage. Raised another year later. And now it was his birthday. So was he now twenty-two? Or frozen at his previous twenty? Or even worse, frozen at his original nineteen? Kid could be three or four different fucking ages but nobody had a damn clue how to tell which one he was.

Adam, of course, had opted for twenty-two. Dean had agreed, but Sam had said it was probably closer to nineteen. Bobby had shot for twenty and Cas and Michael had decided to stay out of it.

At the end of the night, nobody had a definitive answer.

Michael watched Adam slip on a pair of oven mitts and crouch down to reach inside the now-open oven, the cake he was baking apparently having finished rising moments ago. Adam hadn’t brought up the age-thing since, but still, the angel could tell it was bothering him, scratching the back of his mind with its unanswerable question.

“How many candles?” Michael asked, breaking the silence in the room.

“Hmm?” Adam asked as he carefully set the cake down on the table in front of him, the top still smoking a bit with the rising heat.

“How many candles did you decide to put on your cake?”

Adam rolled his eyes as he reached behind him to grab the cake-decorating bag filled with bright green icing off the counter near the sink. “This isn’t _my_ cake. It’s ours. Same birthdays, remember?”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to put candles for _my_ age on that little thing.”

Adam laughed despite himself as he started squeezing the bag and making intricate swirling designs on the chocolate surface. “No, I’m just gonna put two. One for each of us.” He put the bag down for a moment to do so, planting two white candles on either side, before resuming decorating.

Michael watched with rapt attention as Adam continued with his decorating, paying such close attention to the cake that he didn’t even notice Michael getting up from his seat and walking around the table to stand behind him, peering over his shoulder at the bright green words he was almost done writing inside the intricate border: _Happy Birthday Adam & Michael_.

Michael wrapped his arms loosely around Adam’s waist. “It looks delicious,” he said with a grin, planting a light kiss on Adam’s neck.

Michael couldn’t see it, but Adam was grinning as well. “Good, because I think it’s done. Which means...”

He reached outwards towards the edge of the table where there was a butcher knife lying there. The cake knife he’d normally use he’d accidentally leant to Sam and Dean when they were passing through on a hunt (they needed silver, and fast) and Lord knows he’d never get it back, so the butcher knife was the next best thing. He grabbed it and expertly twirled it around his long fingers, weaving it in and around like he’d done so for years.

The flash of the blade caught Michael’s eye and he reeled away from Adam quickly, appearing on the other side of the kitchen with a bang as he slammed into the far wall. Adam was so startled he almost – almost – dropped the knife.

“What the hell was that?” Adam asked, wide-eyed at his boyfriend’s reaction.

“Look, I’m sorry if you’re bothered by the whole age issue, but I just figured I’d ask to be sure—”

“What’re you talking about?”

“The knife!”

“What about it?”

Michael huffed. “There’s no need to take your anger at your age insecurity out on me. Stabbing me won’t give you an answer.”

Adam paused for a moment, looking at the knife in his hands curiously, before dropping it on the table and bracing himself against the edge with both hands, head bent forward and shoulders shaking with silent laughs.

Michael watched him, eyebrow quirked. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”

“You thought...are you...I’m not gonna _stab_ you, asshole.”

(Michael had learned long ago that Adam’s terms of endearment were unconventional, if not offensive to others, but he’d learned that ‘asshole’ usually meant something along the lines of ‘you’re ridiculous and this is why I love you.’)

Michael frowned. “Then what’s it for?”

“Cutting the cake...?” Adam indicated to the innocent baked good sitting in front of him. “Unless you just wanna pick the whole thing up in both hands and eat it that way.”

Michael slapped his palm up to his face, groaning a little in slight embarrassment. Given Adam’s recent brushes with habitual frustration and uncertainty in the world, he’d been sure he’d pushed the human a little too far this time. Granted, being stabbed with a butcher knife wouldn’t have done much damage, but it still wouldn’t have been a pleasant experience, especially when his own boyfriend would be doing the stabbing.

“By all means, cut away.” He paused. “And I apologize for my...stupidity.”

Adam chuckled as he picked up the knife again and cut into the cake, being careful not to mess up the letters too terribly. “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t stupid. It was…amusing.”

“Yes, well, I’m glad my cluelessness entertains you.” Michael approached Adam again, albeit this time a little more cautiously.

Adam used his index finger to swipe some of the green icing off the giant ‘A’ in his name and looked at it for a second before reaching out and, with the speed and agility of someone who’d clearly pre-planned this, wiped the icing off on Michael’s nose.

Michael froze. “I’m guessing this also amuses you?”

“Damn straight it does.”

Michael paused in thought before reaching across Adam and wiping the green icing off the ‘M.’

Adam narrowed his eyes and started backing away. “Don’t you dare.”

“Watch me.”

It took Michael all of a minute to chase Adam all around the downstairs of the house before he finally managed to yank him on top of him onto the couch and wipe the icing off on one cheek, grinning triumphantly before kissing him and smearing the icing on his nose all over the other side of his face.


End file.
